Page 6 of Zane
“Sit down, Zane.” She laughs at me and sits back in her swivel chair. Resting her feet up on her glass desk and smiling like the cat that got the cream.
I pick up my seat and resume my position on the other side of her desk. Anger is still coursing through me, and it takes all my self-control not to stand up and smash my fist through the nearest wall. The very thought of someone harming Charlotte makes me want to rip someone's head off... Literally.
“You like her,” she says, “don’t you?”
“Of course I fucking like her!” I yell back.
“Well,” she puts her hands behind her head and looks me in the eyes. “I think you should probably go and tell her that in person.”
I stand up and turn on my heel, not even bothering to reply. She’s totally right, of course. But, I don’t need to give her the satisfaction of knowing it.
I do want Charlotte to run my new website, but I should have been upfront with her the whole time. I should have told her the way I feel about her, as a woman.
I should have told her I want to rip her clothes off and tie her to her bed frame and ravish her with my tongue until her whole existence has been boiled down to a long line of earth-shattering, consecutive orgasms.
Storming out the building, I click the button on my key fob and jump in behind the wheel. I burst out of the parking lot in a cloud of tire smoke. Music blaring at full volume.
I’m going to get my woman. And I’m more determined than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
An elderly lady in a Buick gives me the bird as a lurch into the opposite lane and overtake her. Barely making it back on the right side of the road before another car hurtles past me.
I’d dropped Charlotte at home on Friday after our meal together, and, even though I’ve only been there once, I find my hands steering me in her direction without me having to think about it.
It’s like she’s a homing beacon and all roads lead directly to her.
I try and practice what I’m going to say to her, but I know it’s no good. I need to speak to her from the heart. Pure and honest. Just like her.
When I pull up on her drive, I notice the curtains in the front room rustle. My cock thickens at the idea that she’s only on the other side of that, black, wooden door.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down, I step out of my car. Before I even get a chance to ring her bell, the door slowly swings open, and Charlotte’s standing in front of me.
She’s only wearing her pajamas, and she looks like she just got out of bed. But she’s still the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.
“What are you doing here?” she says, straightening out her hair and brushing down her clothes.
My heart beats faster and my dick throbs in my pants as I watch her hands run over her breasts. I let out a low, growling sound, and then bite my lip to stop myself from scaring her.
“I needed to see you.” I take a step forward and look down into her deep, dark eyes. I run my hand over her jaw and let her rest her cheek in my palm. “Can I come in?”
7
Charlotte
This is not a good idea. The whole reason I called in sick is because I wanted to avoid seeing Zane. It’s like I can’t control myself around him. And now he’s here. In my house. Standing right in front of me in a form-fitting suit that accentuates his devastatingly athletic frame.
“Is there anything I can get you?” I ask, blushing slightly, and unable to ignore the arousal I feel at having him so close. “A cup of coffee? Some juice? A bite to eat?”
I turn around and rest my hands on the counter. Lowering my head. I’m acting like such a weirdo, but it’s all I can do to stop myself pouncing on him. Wrapping my legs around his hips just like I did on Friday. Pressing my mouth onto his face and reveling in the pleasure of having his tongue claim my mouth.
I can practically feel the heat radiating off of him as he steps closer behind me. I know his eyes are soaking in every inch of my body and it makes my pussy shudder in delight at the thought of him looking at me like this.
“You didn’t come into work this morning,” he growls.
“I couldn’t.” Turning around, I all but knock into him. My hand ends its way onto his chest. I can feel his heart beating through his tailor-made shirt. His pecs feel like granite. Looking down, I can see the bulge in his pants start to swell. I run my tongue over my lips and let out a soft whimper. “You’re driving me crazy,” I say.
“Good.”
He lowers his face to mine and brushes his lips across my cheek. I lean my head back and wrap my arms around his body.
